When (the system-sponsored) "Democracy" Fails its Script:
The People’s Right to Rise
In the wake of Indonesia’s recent protests, some voices in the Philippines have rushed to caution against emulating such upheaval. “People shouldn’t do what the Indonesians did,” they say. “If this violence and chaos happens in the Philippines, it will only hurt the economy, tourism, and investor confidence. Communist China could also take advantage of the violence and chaos to undermine our state institutions. We should seek to solve our corruption problems in a judicious and peaceful manner, like a true working democracy, instead of mob rule and anarchy like in Indonesia.”
It is a familiar refrain: calm, orderly, and moralizing, as if the suffering and indignation of ordinary citizens could be silenced by appeals to market stability or international perception. Yet such admonitions risk misunderstanding the depth of public frustration. What if the Filipino people have reached a breaking point? What if the storm of anger is not just inevitable, but morally and politically justified? In a society where scandals, mismanagement, and elite impunity have persisted for decades, the patience of the populace cannot be measured solely by appeals to civility. To insist that the people simply “wait” or “trust the system” is to ignore the lived reality of injustice—the erosion of public trust, the betrayal of social contracts, and the repeated failures of due process to deliver actual justice.
The warning against chaos may sound prudent on paper, but on the ground, it risks dismissing a legitimate moral and civic outrage as mere disorder. For many Filipinos, the question is no longer whether reform is possible through conventional channels—it is whether justice can be achieved at all, and if the system has failed, what other avenues remain to demand accountability. In this light, the anger, even if explosive, becomes not a threat to democracy but a reaffirmation of the people’s right to insist that governance serve the public, not the privileged few.
The Erosion of Trust
In recent months, the Philippines has witnessed a series of events that have deeply shaken public trust in its institutions, revealing systemic issues of corruption, mismanagement, and a lack of accountability.
The Department of Public Works and Highways (DPWH) has been embroiled in a scandal involving over ₱350 billion allocated for flood control projects. Investigations revealed that 6,021 out of 9,855 projects had no clear record of what was actually built, repaired, or rehabilitated . This revelation has left citizens questioning where their hard-earned taxes have gone and why their safety remains compromised. Furthermore, reports indicate that only 15 contractors secured nearly 20% of the total ₱545.65 billion allocation for the government’s flood control program . This concentration of contracts raises concerns about monopolistic practices and the lack of competition, which can lead to substandard work and inflated costs.
Simultaneously, Vice President Sara Duterte faced an impeachment complaint over alleged misuse of public funds and threats against President Marcos and other officials. Progressive groups accused Duterte of betraying public trust by misusing over ₱612 million in confidential funds, citing violations of laws, false reports, and obstruction of investigations . Despite these serious allegations, the Supreme Court declared the impeachment unconstitutional, citing a constitutional rule prohibiting multiple impeachment filings against the same official within a year . This decision has done little to quell public skepticism about the political elite’s accountability.
These events have underscored a growing perception among the public that those in power are not held to the same standards as ordinary citizens. The lack of transparency, coupled with the dismissal of serious allegations, has eroded trust in the very institutions meant to serve and protect the people. As the gap between the governed and the governing widens, the calls for accountability and justice grow louder, signaling a potential turning point in the nation’s political landscape.
The Case for Righteous Anger
Critics who dismiss the idea of public unrest fail to recognize the depth and persistence of frustration that many Filipinos feel. When the system is perceived as corrupt, unresponsive, and self-serving; when elites and politicians appear untouchable; and when justice is endlessly delayed or denied, what recourse remains for the people? The Bible speaks of righteous anger, and history confirms it: when justice is postponed, rebellion becomes not only understandable but morally imperative.
The familiar refrain of “peaceful reform” or the invocation of a “true working democracy” is hollow in a nation where accountability, transparency, and fairness have been systematically undermined. Those who suggest that Filipinos should emulate a sanitized, orderly democracy conveniently ignore the very foundations of governance that have been eroded: institutions are captured, due process is selective, and privileges accrue to the few while the many are left to endure injustice.
For decades, the memory of EDSA—its “magic” as some call it—has been invoked as a template for civic action. Yet the shallow rhetoric of national unity, applause for symbolic heroism, and staged celebrations cannot stop the inherent anger of the people against a system that continues to fail them. EDSA’s message of unity may pacify some, but it cannot extinguish the radical yearning for change, nor can it restrain the collective desire for justice. No law, no heavenly decree, no curated ceremonial remembrance can contain the people’s innate drive for liberation when oppression becomes unbearable.
As an observer, one cannot help but see that this righteous anger has been long overdue. It stems not only from the failings of local elites but also from decades of exploitation by both imperialist powers—east and west—and by domestic tyrants and opportunists who have profited from the nation’s hardship. The anger is cumulative: a response to years of unpunished wrongdoing, economic betrayal, and political manipulation.
This is not a call for indiscriminate violence. Unlike the recent Indonesian protests, where looting and firebombing occurred, the Filipino people do not necessarily seek destruction as an end in itself. Yet, if tyrants and despots continue to strike against citizens whose hopes are rooted in national liberation and social justice, such measures could become an unavoidable expression of accumulated grievance. The flames of righteous anger, long smoldering beneath the surface, may erupt if the system refuses to answer its people’s demands for accountability and equity.
In essence, the moral and historical record affirms this: when a society’s governing structures are persistently corrupt, when laws serve only the powerful, and when avenues for redress are systematically blocked, the people’s anger is not merely emotion—it is justice insisting on its own terms. In the Philippine context, where corruption scandals, political favoritism, and systemic neglect have persisted for decades, this anger is neither random nor irrational. It is a necessary, overdue force demanding that the nation reckon with its failures and strive for genuine liberation and social equity.
Patience Has Its Limits:
When Rebellion Becomes Justifiable,
and the Anger makes the Riot Necessariable
The recent events in Indonesia serve as a stark reminder that the patience of ordinary citizens has boundaries. A population can endure injustice, corruption, and ineffectual governance for only so long before its suppressed frustrations manifest as collective action. While the Philippines has not yet witnessed widespread protests of similar scale, the structural conditions that provoke such unrest are all too familiar: political favoritism, unchecked scandals, economic mismanagement, and a pervasive sense that the system protects the elite at the expense of the people. The question, therefore, is no longer if the Filipino people will rise—it is when and how they will do so.
History demonstrates that prolonged injustice inevitably produces social pressure. The repeated scandals—from the mismanaged ₱350 billion DPWH flood control program to selective enforcement of accountability in high-level political disputes—have compounded public frustration. Citizens observe the slow or nonexistent consequences for powerful individuals while ordinary citizens struggle with rising costs, natural disasters, and systemic neglect. Such conditions make the notion of peaceful patience increasingly untenable.
It is not only moral but rational to recognize that, under these circumstances, rebellion becomes justifiable. When legal channels fail, when oversight mechanisms are weakened, and when promises of reform remain unfulfilled, the people are left with limited avenues to assert their rights and demand justice. This is not an advocacy of indiscriminate violence; rather, it is an acknowledgment of the inherent legitimacy of anger in response to persistent oppression. The very act of demanding accountability can, at times, require confrontation.
For the Filipino people, the imperative is clear: they must demand more than symbolic gestures, hollow promises, or staged public displays of unity. They must insist on genuine accountability, transparent governance, and policies that serve the interests of all citizens rather than a privileged few. If the political elite continues to ignore, dismiss, or deflect these calls, they risk provoking the very storm of discontent they claim to fear.
Patience is not infinite, and injustice is not eternal. The anger of the people is not merely reactionary—it is a moral barometer signaling that governance has failed. To disregard it is to invite upheaval; to recognize it is to confront the urgent need for meaningful reform. The storm, long building beneath the surface, may yet arrive, and when it does, it will not be a question of choice but of necessity.